


high high hopes

by 1000_directions



Series: mcu kink bingo [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: DOUBLE BINGO BABY!, Established Relationship, Innuendo, M/M, MCU Kink Bingo, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 12:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: “Babe,” Clint calls over, “you wanna come back to mine after debrief and leave these losers to their tower?”“Yes, please.”“Someone’s planning their own private ‘debrief’ after the official debrief,” Sam says with a raised eyebrow, nudging his elbow into Bucky’s side.“I’m not sure what you mean,” Bucky says with a slow smile. “I’m not even wearing briefs.”





	high high hopes

**Author's Note:**

> Squares filled:
> 
> mcukinkbingo: Sexting - **Bingo!!!! Finally!!!!!**  
>  clintbartonbingo: Flirting - **also a bingo!!**  
>  buckybarnesbingo: Established Relationship

Clint doesn’t know what it says about his life that honest-to-God dating the Winter Soldier only ranks somewhere near the middle on the list of weird things that have happened to him over the last year. Apparently, being an Avenger means shit like turning into a frog for a week when a magic blast hits a little wide, or teaming up with a time-traveling version of yourself from the future to stop an alien race from colonizing Earth. So being asked out for pizza by a nervous, beautiful reformed super-assassin with a metal arm and a body carved from sin seemed a little more ordinary in comparison.

But as far as Clint was concerned, there was nothing ordinary about it. They’d gone to a restaurant Clint had walked past dozens of times without noticing and split a pie in the otherwise-empty dining room, knees brushing under the table because they were shoved too close together. And it had started out awkward, halting, neither of them sure if this was even working. But by the end of the pizza, Clint’s knee was sandwiched comfortably between Bucky’s thighs, and Clint kept touching Bucky’s wrist without meaning to when he had an important point to make, and just watching Bucky’s mouth move was doing fucked up things to Clint’s insides. And it was easy as anything to keep talking until the restaurant closed. And then it was easy as anything to head back to Clint’s place and have a coffee. Easy, easy, easy for Clint to wrap a hand around Bucky’s dick and pull him off while kissing the coffee from the corners of his lips.

It’s been a few months now, and he’s still getting used to the feel of it, to waking up to someone else in his bed, someone warm and solid and safe. He’s getting used to the sly glances they share during intel meetings, the private jokes that have them both struggling to keep a straight face as Steve turns redder and redder and starts using words like “insubordinance.”

He’s still getting used to being so happy and everyone _knowing_.

He’s been involved with people from work before, and in his own personal experience, that’s always a shitshow that leaves everyone traumatized and humiliated. It’s never felt so safe or attainable before, and in some ways, that scares the shit out of him even worse than the idea of everything going wrong. The idea of everything going _right_ is sickly terrifying. He doesn’t trust himself not to ruin it.

But for now, he lets himself enjoy it.

The whole team is on a quinjet, headed back to New York after a gloriously brutal mission to quash a new HYDRA cell forming near the Latveria-Symkaria border. It was a bloody, protracted shoot-em-up, and Clint feels used and deliciously depleted, and he can’t wait to fall into bed and sleep the satisfied sleep that comes after a victory hard-earned.

Clint and Nat are sitting by themselves, her feet in his lap while he tries to work a cramp out of her calf. Bucky is sitting on the other side of the plane with Steve and Sam and Rhodey, and Clint catches his eye for a moment and smiles. Bucky was slow to feel like he had any value to contribute, and it makes Clint’s dumb heart happy to see him so easily, naturally integrated into the team.

“What’s a fine man like you doing in a dump like this?” Clint calls over just to watch Bucky’s cheeks flush and to annoy everyone else.

“These are work hours,” Rhodey reminds them. “No sexual comments about your coworkers. Tony’s just dying for a reason to call HR on you two.”

“I’m not being sexual,” Clint grumbles, fumbling for his phone. “You’d know if I was being sexual.”

“It takes a little more sweet-talking than that to get into my pants,” Bucky agrees with a grin, and Steve dramatically drops his head backwards with a loud groan.

“Supersoldier hearing has been the bane of my entire hundred-year existence ever since the two of you started sleeping together,” Steve says.

“Rhodey, Steve’s harassing me about my sex-life at work,” Clint says idly while typing out a text message on his phone and sending it to Bucky.

_So how much sweet-talking does it take to get into your pants? Asking for a friend._

Bucky looks down at his phone and snorts but doesn’t reply.

“No one is allowed to talk about sex,” Rhodey says tiredly. “As far as I’m concerned, no one on this plane has ever had sex, will ever have sex, or has been even partially adjacent to the act. You were all conceived through parthenogenesis.”

“You literally asked me on the flight over if I would fuck my own clone,” Bucky says, thumbing out a message to Clint.

**Ok if I sleep at yours?**

_Yeah but do we have to sleep tho_

“If you’re in a relationship and you fuck your own clone, is that cheating or does it count as masturbation?” Steve asks.

“It’s a _lawsuit_ ,” Rhodey says. “If a crew member walked in during this conversation and felt uncomfortable, you would all be in deep shit.”

“You’d try it though, right?” Sam chimes in. “Like if we’re all being honest here?”

“Hush,” Nat murmurs sleepily. “I wanna hear more about Steve jerking off his own clone.”

“I’d fuck Bucky’s clone,” Clint volunteers.

“Oh my god, we _know_ ,” Steve says.

**Don’t fuck my clone, I’d be jealous :( can we sleep first and fuck after, im so tired**

**__** _What’s the point of you having supersoldier stamina if you don’t carry me up the stairs bridal style and then ravage me in every room of the apartment before we fall asleep exhausted wiht your dick still smelling like me? I want a boyfriend refund, im gonna fuck the clone_

**DON’T FUCK MY CLONE :( :( :(**

“Babe,” Clint calls over, “you wanna come back to mine after debrief and leave these losers to their tower?”

“Yes, please.”

“Someone’s planning their own private ‘debrief’ after the official debrief,” Sam says with a raised eyebrow, nudging his elbow into Bucky’s side.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Bucky says with a slow smile. “I’m not even wearing briefs.”

“I genuinely hate all of you,” Rhodey grumbles.

“Let them be,” Nat says with a yawn. “It’s cute watching them try to flirt.”

“Like watching a child draw a picture with mittens on,” Sam agrees. “It’s a shitshow, but damn, they’re trying.”

“I’m great at flirting!” Clint protests. “Bucky, tell them. Tell them I’m good at flirting.”

“ _Are_ you good at flirting?” Bucky asks, tilting his head to one side. “I mean, I’m great at it, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Nat and Steve say in unison, which is...interesting.

_I don’t remember you questioning my skills when you came for the second time last night with my tongue in your ass_

Bucky’s eyes widen when he checks his phone and then quickly flips it facedown before anyone else can see, and Clint grins to himself. No matter what anyone wants to call it, he knows how to get Bucky going.

“I’m great at flirting,” Clint says again, more softly this time. “But you make it so easy for me. I don’t even have to work for it. I just look at you and I want to be good to you, babe. I don’t even have to try.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky says, pitching his voice just low enough to make Clint’s knees shake, “I waited a long time to find someone like you who was even worth trying for.” And even if it’s halfway a game that they’re playing to fuck with everyone else, Clint knows there’s truth in Bucky’s words, and it makes him feel all gooey inside.

“What the fuck is going on right now?” Sam mumbles to Steve.

“I’m five seconds away from jumping out of this plane without a parachute,” Steve murmurs back, “and I’m just mad that the fall will only kill me once, which might not be enough times to remove this from my brain.”

“Everyone _shut the fuck up immediately_ ,” Rhodey says sternly. “Barton and Barnes, you’re in time-out for grossing everyone out with your horrible flirting. Rogers and Wilson, you’re on thin ice for bringing up the clone-fucking. Romanoff, you--” He pauses for a moment. “Okay, she’s asleep. Maybe everyone else should follow her example and relax silently before I start handing out citations.”

“Sir yes sir,” Sam drawls, leaning back in his seat. Steve lazily salutes. Clint mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key, and Bucky just rolls his eyes and leans against the window. Satisfied, Rhodey nods sharply, and they fly in silence.

One by one, everyone else on the plane starts to drift off, but Clint can see Bucky’s eyes, still alert and watchful. Clint wouldn’t mind dozing himself, but Bucky is never going to fall asleep on a plane, especially not with Clint so far away, and Clint doesn’t want to leave him awake by himself. He entertains the idea of the two of them slipping off to the lavatory for some mile-high antics, but Nat is asleep with her feet in his lap, and he knows it takes a lot for her to feel comfortable enough to be that vulnerable, and she would never, never forgive him if she knew he left her asleep and unattended.

So, texting it is.

_If you let me have my way with you for ten minutes once we get back, i promise youll have the best sleep of your life after_

**Yeah? What are you planning to do with me?**

_I was thinking I’d probably just fall to my knees and let you fuck my mouth for a bit until you’re so worked up you can’t even stand it_

Bucky makes a low, wounded noise, and Clint grins to himself in the dark.

_Would you like that, baby? I know you get all worked up after a good fight. Do you wanna take it out on my mouth? Make me choke on your dick so my voice is still raspy when we wake up tomorrow?_

“Clint,” Bucky groans, and Clint shushes him and keeps typing.

_Is that too rough, baby? Do you want me to be sweet? Want me to strip you down and work you over with my mouth, lick you open until you’re loose and begging for me? Do you want me to hold you down when I fuck into you, cover up every bit of your skin with every bit of mine?_

**I want t**

_What do you want? Want me to roll you onto your back and ride you? Want me to do all the work and get you off while you just get to lie there and watch me bounce on your dick? Want to watch me make myself come on your perfect cock?_

“Clint,” Bucky says again, more urgently this time, and Clint gets it, he’s getting a little too worked up for being in public.

_Go into the bathroom and get started for me, babe. I don’t want you to come, just use your thumb and two fingers and stroke yourself nice and hard for me so that you’re ready when we land._

“You’re gonna kill me,” Bucky whispers, but he stands up and walks towards the back of the plane.

“I know,” Clint whispers back as he passes. “Hey, gimme a kiss.”

Bucky leans down, holding Clint’s face in both of his strong, sure hands as he kisses him wet and dirty as anything.

“Okay,” Clint says dazedly as Bucky smirks at him, palming his own hard dick through his uniform.

“I wasn’t kidding about not wearing briefs,” he says with a wink as he saunters off towards the bathroom, and Clint is absolutely the luckiest, stupidest man alive.

Clint tries to use the time to focus and cool off, willing his dick to settle down and be patient. They’re both gonna get some action tonight, but they need to chill out a bit and wait until they’re back in New York.

“Agent Barton?” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice tentatively ventures into his in-ears.

“Hm?”

“I just thought I should remind you that this is a work trip.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint grumbles. “Rhodey gave us the lecture already, we got it.”

“I also wanted to remind you that your work mobile device and all of its contents are property of the United States government and are subject to periodic review by the World Security Council,” she says tactfully.

Oh.

_Shit_.

“I assume that deleting messages from my phone won’t stop the information from getting out there?” he asks tentatively. He’s not thrilled for himself about his personal details being shared without consent, but he knows it’s going to feel a million times more invasive for Bucky.

“Correct, Agent Barton. The messages will deposit into a secure drop-box once we land and link-up with the Avengers Tower mainframe.”

“What if something were to happen before then?”

“If we were, for example, to encounter an unexplained burst of quantum energy before docking, it’s possible that the messages could be lost without being archived.”

“And what are the chances that we would run into a burst of quantum energy like that right now?” Clint asks, dreading her answer.

There’s a brief pause, and then F.R.I.D.A.Y. responds, “One hundred percent, Agent Barton. I regret to inform you that all electronic messages from this leg of the trip have been mysteriously and permanently lost. I would advise you to be more careful going forward.”

“Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Clint says, breathing a sigh of relief.

“You’re quite welcome,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chirps. “Also, Agent Barton, I think you are quite good at flirting. Sergeant Barnes is very lucky indeed.”

When Bucky comes out of the bathroom, his cheeks are flushed, and his dick is noticeably straining against the front of his pants. Thank fuck they’re wheels down in ten.

“No more messages,” Clint whispers as Bucky passes him. “Sit with your hands in your lap and be good for me, and I’ll take care of you when we get home.”

“Counting on it,” Bucky grits out between his teeth, but he manages to flash him a tight smile before easing himself gingerly down into the seat with his lip pulled tight between his teeth.

 _Jesus_ , he’s hot.

Clint still hasn’t figured out exactly what he’s done to deserve any of this. Part of him is still waiting for all of this to fall apart, but no matter what Clint does, Bucky stubbornly _stays_.

So maybe he won’t wreck this. He’s gonna wreck _Bucky_ , he’s gonna have him whimpering and shaking in half an hour, cock dribbling precome everywhere as Clint works three clever fingers inside him while sucking wet, teasing kisses to the base of his shaft, teasing him mercilessly until Bucky comes all over himself with a long, desperate moan.

He’s going to wreck Bucky, but he can’t wreck _them_.

If this is the new ordinary, Clint thinks maybe he doesn’t mind so much.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](https://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/184484071289/title-high-high-hopes-link-ao3-square-filled)


End file.
